Chapter 2
The lights hit like a punch.
Alex sings anyway.
That’s the deal he made with himself years ago—sing no matter what. Sing when his hands shake. Sing when his chest feels hollow. Sing when the world feels too loud.
The crowd explodes when Jackson steps forward.
Girls scream his name. Phones rise. The sound crashes over the stage in waves.
Jackson owns it. Smiles wide. Flirts with the front row. Moves like he was born under lights.
Alex stays back. Harmony clean. Voice perfect.
Still, he feels Jackson’s eyes flick to him between lines. Measuring. Remembering.
After the set, the adrenaline drops hard.
Backstage buzzes with chaos. High-fives. Shouts. Champagne popping.
Alex grabs a towel. Wipes his neck. Keeps his head down.
“Hey.”
Jackson again. Close again.
Alex looks up.
Jackson leans against a table, blocking the exit without trying. Or maybe trying exactly enough.
“You good?” Jackson asks.
Alex nods. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
Alex shrugs.
Jackson’s smile softens. “You’re mad.”
Alex exhales. “You threatened me.”
“I teased you.”
“You said—”
“I said unless I need to,” Jackson cuts in. “Relax.”
Embarrassment spikes. Being told to relax always does that.
Jackson lowers his voice. “I’m not gonna out you. I swear.”
Alex studies his face. Tries to read past the charm that gives him butterflies.
“Why?” Alex asks.
Jackson hesitates. Just a beat.
“Because,” he says, “it was kinda hot.”
Alex freezes.
Jackson’s eyes flicker over his face. Watching the reaction. Cataloging it.
“You blush easy,” Jackson adds.
Alex laughs once. Nervous. “You’re messing with me.”
“Maybe,” Jackson says. “But you’re still standing here.”
A beat. A moment that seems like their eternity beginning.
A small connection sparks. Sharp. Unwanted. Electric.
Someone shouts Jackson’s name.
Jackson pushes off the table. Steps away.
“Don’t delete the pics,” he adds casually. “I like having a fan.”
Then he’s gone.
Alex stands there, chest tight. Wondering what will happen next…
